


The Hots

by Languidly



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Languidly/pseuds/Languidly
Summary: In the moonlight, every sharp plane of that perfect, honed body glimmered, and Raphael abruptly wished he was back at the lair in the privacy of his own room.
Relationships: Leonardo/Raphael (TMNT)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

_Leonardo had nice arms._

_They were muscular and sinewy, and, well, they just **looked** good. _

_He had nice hands too. Nimble hands. The way those hands hefted twin katana, spun them around with dizzying speed, or accurately threw a grappling hook from 5 meters away in the dark…_

_But his fingers were gentle. They could apply a salve so lightly that a wound barely stung, and wrap a bandage so skillfully that a scrape wouldn’t hurt. It belied how strong those fingers were; a deliberate flick to the forehead could leave stars in the eyes, and had left many a human enemy unconscious._

_He had really muscular legs, too, thick thighs that ended in..._

Raphael woke with a jerk, a flush on his cheeks and a disbelieving curse under his breath. What- had he- 

“Raph?” Donatello, enquiring through the door. “You up? Mikey’s made breakfast.”

He was up alright, damnit. 

“Be right there,” he growled, scrubbing his face with the backs of his hands. He was going insane, there was no other explanation. If he was dreaming and thinking that Leonardo - nagging, self-righteous Leonardo - was the hots-

_Authoritative, flexible Leonardo, was the hots._

Raphael muffled a scream and went to splash himself with cold water.

\---

They had all been throwing him sidelong glances over the last four days as his mood had worsened exponentially and he’d gotten noticeably off-balance in the dojo. Because those damned dreams had not gone away to the deepest darkest corners of the sewers, never to return, as Raphael had fervently hoped. No, they had come back, with all the force of a battering ram on Raphael’s barely-held together sanity, rendering him tossing and turning through the nights with images of Leonardo’s wicked, wicked fingers on various parts of Raphael’s body, that smug, calm voice giving him orders to _keep it together, Raph._

Unfortunately, when his brother had swept his feet out from under him for the third time while Raphael did his level best to glare and _not notice_ those muscular legs, Leonardo did not leave as usual. Instead, he crouched down by Raphael’s prone body, a thoughtful look in his narrowed eyes, and Raphael got the sinking feeling that he had finally lost it.

“Is there something you wanna tell me, Raph?”

Leonardo’s voice was unusually warm, if measured. Well, Raphael hadn’t had the energy to throw more than a couple of biting words at Leonardo over the last few days, which meant that Leonardo himself had been less snippy in return. And that voice, _that voice_ , that had started telling Raphael some very explicit things in his dreams, ordering him to do this or that and chuckling in his ear as strong fingers roamed his plastron…

Raphael sat bolt upright, almost smashing his forehead against Leonardo’s in the process, and barked out, “No, you win, shut up,” before fleeing the dojo.

\---

The thing about fighting was that it usually ended up with all parties being sweaty, dirty and exhausted. The latest skirmish with the Foot Clan had been all those things, except they had fought out-of-town at a base that had been a farm as a front. Covered in blood, mud and various animal feeds, Raphael had been so distracted by the smell that he had let down his guard.

And now he was frozen, because Leonardo was _stripping down_ in front of him.

Leonardo was tiredly beckoning Mikey, who was running around laughing with the outdoor hose and splashing Donatello with triumphant cries. Donatello put down his gadgets carefully before turning like a striking snake and giving chase to his youngest brother, who yelped and threw the hose at Leonardo as he escaped into the Shell Raiser. And then Raphael could barely hear Donatello hollering, “Don’t get mud in there, Mikey-!” because Leonardo was raising the hose in the air, and the water was hitting his face as he turned his head from side to side, spilling down his chest and trickling down almost obscenely to lower places. In the moonlight, every sharp plane of that perfect, honed body glimmered, and Raphael abruptly wished he was back at the lair in the privacy of his own room.

“-your turn, Raph,” Leonardo stood, and Raphael directed his gaze urgently to the night sky, to the dark silhouette of the surrounding trees, to anything but his brother prowling towards him because now he had definitely gone mad, and Leonardo _was_ the hots, but-

Leonardo was looking at him very peculiarly, and Raphael belatedly realized that he hadn’t taken the hose held out in front of him. He snatched it from Leonardo’s hands, then immediately wished he hadn’t, because Leonardo’s fingers were warm and as strong as banded steel, and the touch of them was sending tremors to parts of Raphael’s body that he begged inwardly to stay hidden. For a moment, he thought he had deflected successfully, another close call.

And then Leonardo leaned in close and whispered, “We’re going to talk about this, you and I,” and brushed his shoulder as he walked past.

Raphael closed his eyes and tried to think of terrible things, like Shredder and destruction, Kraang in his Technodrome, Splinter in lingerie. The mental images and five minutes of cold water as he cleaned himself up were enough so that he even managed to switch off the hose and make it back to the Shell Raiser with most of his composure outwardly intact.


	2. Chapter 2

He’d never been more thankful for all his ninja skills in his life. Watching from the shadows, poised to catch any flicker of movement or echo of sound, as he hid-

Except Raphael was not _hiding_ from Leonardo. He was practicing _not being seen_ as he returned to the lair, like an excellent ninja striking through the darkness. 

He’d dragged out the night as long as he could, and it had perhaps been a little too close to dawn for comfort when Casey had looked him dead in the eye and asked, “You had another fight with Leo?” Of course, Casey had then pitched face-first into the couch, the beer bottle dangling from his fingers, so Raphael had grudgingly convinced himself that it was time to go home.

He skulked around the last section of pipe, hoping against hope that Splinter had not awoken yet for the morning meditation. The last thing he needed on top of avoiding Leonardo was his master chiding him for staying out. Spending nights at Casey’s had the added bonus of distraction, where Raphael could play video games, eat pizza and drink beer without worrying about falling asleep and seeing the curve of Leonardo’s broad, muscled shoulders when he closed his eyes-

A hand landed on his arm and Raphael _screeched_ , because none of his ninja skills had prepared him for his _sneaking_ , stalking predator of a brother who had no reason to be waiting outside the lair except to catch him, and oh, Raphael felt his cheeks coloring instantly, both for the screech, and for the hand that he was now staring down at, thick strong fingers that encircled his arm, and he really shouldn’t have had that last beer. 

Leonardo must have smelled the alcohol on his breath, but his brother stayed oddly silent. As the seconds ticked by, Raphael began to wish fervently for the familiar lecture, the sanctimonious judgement, anything but this heavy silence, and why, why was he still staring at Leonardo’s hand?

“Raph,” Leonardo’s voice was low, deliberate. 

It made Raphael tense automatically as he scrabbled to muster the nerve to shake off that presumptuous grasp and tell his brother to go to hell. And then Leonardo cocked his head, slowly leaned forward, and, with an air of experimentation, _ran his fingers_ up Raphael’s arm. 

Those damnable, dangerous fingers flitted lightly across his shoulder and then settled at the soft base of Raphael’s neck, where his pulse was suddenly thundering at a hundred miles an hour and making him feel dizzy. His mind was blank, and he realized he was light-headed because he was holding his breath, and he really wanted to curse, to strike out at Leonardo for being so _frustrating_ , so _invasive_ , and _too fucking **sexy**_ -

“I see,” Leonardo said mildly, and then kissed him.

All the breath left Raphael in a rush, and he had no idea what happened, no idea who had done what, except he was suddenly being pushed against a wall, his knees buckling and turning to jelly, sliding down so that his legs fell open, and between them, looking at him with eyes that glittered brightly, was Leonardo, pulling Raphael’s cock out and stroking him with those clever, clever fingers, bending down to suck-

Raphael’s vision whited out as he came with a strangled groan, and the last thing he thought was that his dreams had now gone too far, and he should never, ever drink again if this was going to be the result.

\---

He woke up with a pounding headache, throat parched and eyes feeling like they’d been crusted shut. Moving hurt, and when he managed to crack open an eyelid, the dim light coming from under the door might as well have been the blaze of a thousand suns. Groaning, he fumbled around for water, anything to wet his lips with, and clean up that uncomfortable, sticky feeling between his thighs-

The hazy memories of last night dropped with all the force of a sledgehammer, and Raphael would have shot up if his stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to roil queasily. Where- where had reality ended, and the dream begun? 

Breathing as steadily as he could, Raphael tried to make sense of the facts. He was back in his room, although the last thing he could remember had been the darkness of a small alcove in a tunnel by the lair. He’d spent a long raucous night with Casey and come home late, and Leonardo had been waiting, and- and Leonardo had _kissed_ him, and _done things_ to him.

Raphael’s face burned. Had he dreamt up the entire episode? Had Leonardo been there at all? It was far more likely that Raphael had come home dead drunk and fallen into bed, where his most colorful fantasies had had free rein, the evidence of which was now dried and telling on his plastron and the tops of his thighs. Oh shells, how was he even going to _look_ at Leonardo now, let alone spar-

Leonardo cleared his throat, and Raphael went very, very still. 

He could pretend to fall back asleep, he thought wildly. He would figure out a way somehow to never look at Leonardo again for the rest of his life, on missions, in the lair, in the dojo, anywhere, really-

He felt Leonardo draw closer from where he’d been sitting cross-legged by the foot of Raphael’s bed, heard the clunk of a small bucket. And then his brother was kneeling by his side with a long-suffering, amused huff of breath, and a warm towel was pressed gently to Raphael’s stomach, wiping away the sticky streaks there before descending lower.

“You’ve been sleeping for only three hours,” Leonardo informed him, deftly rinsing the towel out in the bucket before returning to his ministrations, which were distracting to Raphael even through the head-splitting migraine and life-ending mortification. “I told Master that you’d needed some, well, soul-searching time with Casey last night, and to let you sleep it off. Don’s off making some improvements to the Shell Raiser, and Mikey’s probably by the grates waiting for his pizza breakfast to be delivered.”

Maybe if he ignored Leonardo long enough, then Raphael could pretend that this was not happening, that nothing had happened at all. He felt his brother’s hands move to his thighs, pausing. Raphael was going to be damned if he was going to open his legs so easily again-

It took a moment for the pain to register through the pounding in his head, but when it did, Raphael’s eyes shot open with a glare and he forced himself up with a jerk and a swear word on his lips, because had Leonardo just bent down and _bit_ him on the thigh..?!

Leonardo’s eyes were warm with mirth, looking back at him, a quick tongue already soothing the indent of teeth and reminding Raphael spectacularly of the last thing he remembered, of Leonardo taking him into his mouth-

“You-” he croaked, and then gave up and let Leonardo finish cleaning him, the rub of the warm towel comforting on the insides of his legs, on the curl of his tail. 

“There’s a water bottle and some aspirin behind you. I’ll tell Mikey to save the greasiest slice of pizza - hear that’s really what cures a hangover - so just see if you can sleep a bit more. And Raph?”

He would _not_ open his eyes, would _not_ give Leonardo the damned satisfaction of- of having seen him like this-

A thick, callused finger landed deliberately on his plastron, and Raphael’s breath hitched. 

“I’ll see you at training later,” there was an unmistakable grin in Leonardo’s voice, and Raphael realized to his horror that his brother had clearly found out about Raphael’s kink and was going to exploit it mercilessly.

“Get out!” the only thing in reach was an old copy of a motorcycle magazine; it unsatisfyingly missed its mark by several feet, and then Leonardo was closing the door, low laughter trailing behind him as Raphael wished with all his desperation that he could somehow zap himself into the next dimension.


	3. Chapter 3

Since that day, it had become nearly impossible to argue with Leonardo, which pissed Raphael off to no end because then he inevitably ended up following orders. 

He tried his best to shake it off, to keep in mind determinedly that he would _not_ be bossed around, but every time he opened his mouth to protest something, Leonardo would shoot him a smoldering look that had previously featured only in his dreams, and if Raphael was really unlucky, accompany it with a casual touch that burned along his skin.

Sparring was even worse. Before, he’d won at least half the matches - or one-in-three, which he’d admit if tortured with a red hot poker - but now that he was striving to avoid the matter of actually putting hands on Leonardo and using brute force, his brother’s greater dexterity and knowledge of the pressure points in their bodies gave him all the advantage. It forced Raphael to stand back and not rush in blindly, to jog his barely-used strategizing brain cells into finding any unexpected tactic that could win the bout. He’d managed it a few times - like when he’d surprised Leonardo by grabbing Don’s staff and slamming it into his brother’s chest in an attempt to keep him away - but he wasn’t used to thinking so damn much when it came to a fight. And of course, the longer he let his mind wander, the higher the chances were that his eyes would eventually fall back on Leonardo’s muscular forearms, his well-formed calves and thighs, and-

“You’re drooling,” Leonardo muttered from across the ring, eyes alight with something that Raphael definitely did not want to think about right now. And then the words caught up to him and he growled, fighting the heat that threatened to climb his cheeks, because there was no way that he’d actually been _drooling_. “Shut up!” 

Leonardo smiled at him, and launched into a vicious attack that was all swirling wooden katanas and barely-pulled kicks. When Raphael landed on his back, all the air slammed out of him with a knee on his chest and a wooden edge to his throat, he grit his teeth and conceded stiffly. 

His glowering anger turned into alarm when Leonardo did not get up straightaway, and when the wooden katana was replaced by a thumb sliding slowly and thoughtfully across his neck. He breathed out as steadily as he could, before lifting his eyes and glaring at his brother, who was perched comfortably above him, eye ridge raised.

“You’re getting faster, Raph. Need to work on that dodging, but,” the thumb changed to a finger that stroked roughly down his plastron, and Raphael shivered before he could stop himself, wishing wholeheartedly that he could snap something, anything, instead of staring at his brother like an idiot “-but not bad.”

With that, Leonardo whirled about gracefully and left, and Raphael could only scowl after him, irritated beyond measure and despairing if he’d be able to make it to his room before he dropped down.

\---

He should’ve known that Leonardo wouldn’t have left it at that, would have found some other opportunity to one-up Raphael and to tease him for having this _damned weakness_ for Leonardo’s body, but Raphael was finding it increasingly difficult to remember how annoying his brother was when Leonardo was between his legs, stroking him to full hardness with one hand while two fingers of the other pressed into his ass, murmuring in a filthily low voice how good Raphael looked like this, spread open and muffling his panting with the back of his hand in the dim light of his room.

“Are ya insane?!” Raphael managed to hiss, before his head dropped back in a low moan. “It’s the middle of the night, we’re- we’re in the middle of the lair!”

“Mm,” Leonardo pulled his mouth off Raphael’s cock with a wet pop, and Raphael had to be dreaming or drunk again, because there was no way Leonardo was looking at him like that, tender with pupils blown wide. “It’s only midnight; you went to bed early. Donny and Mikey won’t be back from patrolling for at least another hour. And Master’s away investigating something. You did it earlier, didn’t you.”

Raphael’s brain scrambled to catch up, but his thoughts were melting into a puddle despite his best efforts and he could only gape at his brother. “Did it?”

Leonardo grinned at him, eyes flashing. “Touched yourself. After we fought.”

If Leonardo thought Raphael was going to _admit_ it, then Fearless Leader clearly had another thing comi- 

“Yes-!” he gasped, momentarily blinded by a spot that Leonardo’s thick fingers had brushed against, and he was jerking his hips up unashamedly before he could stop himself, biting back a whimper. _Yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes…_

He was _so_ hard, and Leonardo was _so damned hot_ , with that annoyingly irresistible air of superiority and those large skillful fingers…

“Thought so,” Leonardo smiled at him, all teeth, before pushing something larger than two fingers against Raphael’s opening. “I heard you in the shower.”

If Raphael had been able to concentrate on anything other than his swollen cock and aching hole, he was sure he would have spluttered in outrage, in embarrassment, and what the hell, way to call him out, Leo-

Then Leonardo pressed in, thick cock just as hard and hot as the rest of him, and the complaint died in Raphael’s throat as he clutched blindly at the sheets and writhed. His thighs were quivering, the unfamiliar intrusion stretching him with a burning sensation, and he had to stifle a whimper. The world narrowed down to where they were joined and the sound of Leonardo’s breathing, which had quickened considerably, but Raphael barely had a second to feel smug before Leonardo wrapped strong callused fingers around his cock and pulled at the same time that he thrust all the way in.

“Nghhhhh-!” He was appalled at the sounds he was making but his body was moving of its own accord, repeatedly rocking down onto Leonardo’s cock and up into Leonardo’s rough hand, and really, this was exactly like those dreams that had gotten Raphael into trouble in the first place. Now he was most definitely drooling from a corner of his mouth, because the stinging sensation had passed and been replaced with sparks bursting behind his eyelids whenever Leonardo took a certain angle and thrust so hard that Raphael was sure he was going to bite his own tongue any moment. Oh, he was getting _close_ , and he released the sheet to thumb the heated head of his cock-

Leonardo chose that very second to stop moving and Raphael nearly had a heart attack. He opened his eyes and found his brother staring back at him, a faint smile on his face. And then the interminable bastard had the nerve to lean down and press a finger to his lips, with a whispered “Shhh.”

Raphael was not going to be _shushed_ in _his own bedroom_ , and his indignant glare made Leonardo chuckle softly before Raphael became aware of voices outside and froze: Mikey grumbling loudly about the cold and that they should order supper, and Donatello’s unintelligible reply.

Before he had a chance to panic, Leonardo started moving again, pushing forward and pistoning hard against the back of Raphael’s thighs, and when he hit something deep inside, Raphael’s eyes rolled up into his head and he had to choke back a moan. His hand fumbled its way back to his cock, the interruption all but forgotten, and the blessed friction after a few hard tugs was more than he could bear. He erupted all over himself, biting down mightily on his other hand, unable to completely smother a groan as Leonardo continued thrusting urgently against him, another one, two, three quick breaths, before he stilled and Raphael felt the unmistakable warmth of release spilling out between his thighs. 

“-think Raph’s awake?” Mikey was right outside the door now and Raphael went rigid with horror, because if Mikey walked in _this instant_... Leonardo hung his head on Raphael’s knee, shoulders shaking and laughing silently at Raphael’s expression. They stayed utterly, perfectly quiet, and then the footsteps receded with a disappointed “Nah, don’t seem so,” before fading away.

His brother pulled free and Raphael fought a wince, legs collapsing bonelessly to either side. He was unbelievably sore and more relaxed than he had felt in a long time, so he couldn’t quite find the strength to protest when Leonardo nudged him away from the wet spot on the bed and cleaned them up efficiently. He was falling asleep…

“Raph,” Leonardo’s voice was a murmur in his ear, richly amused. “I locked the door, so there was no chance of them walking in on us. Just so you know.”

Raphael considered, really considered, throwing his pillow at his brother’s head. And maybe smothering Leonardo with it.


End file.
